Weston Sacco

Reid is my big brother.  As my big brother, Reid paved the way for me and showed me what life is really all about.  There is nobody who could have ever done this better than Reid.  For in his short twenty years, Reid lived a fuller life than most people do in their 100 years. 

When I was little, I wanted to be exactly like Reid.  I was a Ghost Buster with him for Halloween. I played with his Star Trek toys with him. I used to watch him play computer games and pretend that I was his co-pilot.  Of course he would offer to let me have a turn or to be in charge of the throttle while he steered or something like that.  But I never wanted to take over.  I loved knowing that every time I did something with Reid, he would make sure that every detail would be absolutely perfect and that everybody around him was comfortable and happy.  Especially me, I was always his little brother and Reid made sure to look out for me first. 

Soon I developed very different interests from Reid.  However, I continued to marvel at his accomplishments, his ability do everything, and his friendships with everyone.  Even with keeping an incredibly hectic schedule, Reid always had time for me.  Reid showed me all sorts of music, taught me how to drive a Saab to near perfection, helped me realize that I should never try to do anything on the computer unless he had already showed me how to do it his way, which, of course is always the best way to do it, and most importantly, he showed me that the best deal for a hot dog can be found at Costco’s. 

Reid and I understood each other better than anyone.  Though we did have very different interests and personalities, we always knew exactly what the other was thinking or feeling.  Along with this understanding came an immense respect and love.  The bond between brothers, especially ones as close as us, is the greatest bond there is.  We would have done anything for one another and genuinely cared for and admired each other. 

I always assumed that Reid would be there forever.  In his last days, when the breathing tube was temporarily taken out, I told Reid to save his words so that his throat could heal so he could speak clearly in a couple days.  Reid had Bethany and me do resistance exercises to strengthen his arms so that he could once again be in great shape.  Neither of us could fathom that in a couple days, Reid would no longer be here.  I don’t know how I am going to go to Maine or around Lynnfield when every street and every building has a hundred memories attached to them.  I don’t know how I am going to go to college or turn twenty-one knowing that my brother never got to.  I don’t know who will become the best man at my wedding or who will retire to a condo next to Disney World with me. 

Then I wonder why Reid and I couldn’t switch places right now.  Then I realize that if it were Reid up here, he would try to make the best of this terrible situation just as he has always made the most of whatever hand he was dealt.  Reid lost a leg, a kidney, a piece of lung, two years of his life fighting cancer, and not once did he stop moving forward.  Between chemo sessions Reid would make a giant list of things to do and complete every task making sure to keep moving. 

I admire Reid and cherish the memories of his great strength, so it would be hypocritical of me to ever give up or feel sorry for myself.  I will live strong because I love Reid with all of my heart.